Past Times
by Missnightshade
Summary: Turns out Carolyn Fry didn't die on the barren planet, but she also seems to have lost all her memouries. My, what shall we do...
1. Default Chapter

Past times  
  
By: Miss Nightshade  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Pitch Black. End of story. On with the fic. Unless you've left by now. Then oh well.  
  
Chapter One: Sleeping with Ghosts  
  
  
  
Carolyn Fry watched her daughter roll over on the bed; the baby's brilliant blue eyes shone with the exuberance of new life as she sucked on a piece of her curly black hair. "Leila." For the first time in a while the young blonde woman cooed gently with affection.  
  
As if in response to her mother's address Leila turned her head and stared, her chubby cheeks creasing into perfect dimples. She gurgled with pleasure at the attention and flipped onto her back once more. "Shh." Carolyn hushed her, pressing a kiss to the baby's soft forehead. "Time for bed, honey."  
  
She picked up the squirming child and placed her on her stomach in the nearby crib, pulling a pastel-coloured blanket over her. "Goodnight, sweetie." She whispered and flicked off the light-switch. Angry squealing erupted from the bedroom when the door closed but quickly subsided as the baby gave way to sleep.  
  
Carolyn flipped on the baby monitor in the other room, listening to her daughter's quiet breathing. Sitting down on the sofa, the blonde woman leaned her head back in exhaustion, her eyes closed and memouries flooded through her mind. The only memouries she had since she'd been found on a barren planet two years ago. When the pilots of a new ship that was being tested had landed on the wasteland they had found her lying nearly dead on the ground, covered in blood and dirt, her insides hanging out and her pulse almost nonexistent.  
  
She hadn't been conscious when they'd taken her aboard, but as she opened her eyes to the blinding light of a hospital her mind was blank. The doctors told her that due to the incredible amount of abuse her body had been put through, the large quantity of blood she'd lost and the various near-fatal wounds, her brain had all but shut down and had caused her to develop severe amnesia.  
  
  
  
After six months on life support and masses of operations, Carolyn was able to leave sickbay. At the desk they gave her the only thing that had identified her, the tag around her neck with twelve numbers printed on it. She was Carolyn Fry, they said, captain of a wrecked ship. A captain? She couldn't believe she had ever been on a ship; her mind was empty, a heap of unreadable data and grey areas.  
  
It wasn't until she had met Lysander that anything had seemed right. Lysander Gates. Pilot extraordinaire and the man she loved. Had loved. She'd met him on her way to the only place she could call home, the place her profile said she'd been born, Terra Cross, a peaceful planet light-years away from Andromeda Six where they'd brought her for rehabilitation. He was piloting the ship that took her there and if she hadn't walked mistakenly into the wrong room they never might have met. He had been jovial and good-natured about it; that was what had attracted her to him. Despite his light-hearted character, he was a beautiful man. Tall and slender with narrow brown eyes the colour of amber and thick black hair that kinked and curled all over his head, standing out boldly against skin paler than her own. He was fine-boned, almost effeminate, but his undeniable virility kept him that small step away. Somewhere in the murky depths of her memoury, flashes of an old story, a Shakespearian tale of love and magic broke through her thoughts at the sight of him. A Midsummer Night's Dream, that's what it was called. Staring at him standing there smiling at her, she felt like Hermia to his Lysander.  
  
She'd fallen in love with him at first sight, and it seemed he had too. Seemed. That was the key word. Nearly three months later, when they'd been living together happily on Terra Cross in what appeared to be a perfect arrangement, she announced she was pregnant. Suddenly he changed toward her, anger bubbled up at everything she said or did until one night, he hit her. Hit her hard, hard enough to draw blood. And then he announced that they were through. He wanted no part of the baby, he shouted at her as she lay there bleeding on the floor, and packed all his things that night. He left the next morning for Andromeda Six she assumed, and it wasn't until later that she found out how wrong she had been about his feelings for her when they met.  
  
Various woman called her weeks after he'd gone, screaming about how she had stolen their lover and how they were going to hunt her down and gut her like a fish. Needless to say, any hope she had of him returning was crushed in those moments, and she felt herself crumbling into a depressed, dog-tired life.  
  
But the baby grew inside her, stretching her belly and giving her something to live for once more, after everything that had happened, what she could and couldn't remember; Carolyn knew one thing for sure. She was a fighter, and she'd be damned if she was going to let some Lothario-pig beat her down.  
  
Eight months passed since the time of his departure and the child was finally born. It was sudden, frighteningly so. There hadn't been time to call for a doctor or even scream for help before she found herself lying on the floor, struggling to yield the life that fought for freedom inside her. When the baby was finally expelled, Carolyn moved lethargically to its side, gathering the screaming infant in her arms and pressing it close for warmth. It was a girl, with raven black hair and eyes that matched her own. She named her Leila, an Arabic name meaning 'black as the night' for her silky ebony mane.  
  
Just six weeks had passed since Leila's birth; she had grown strong and healthy, her little limbs gaining the necessary baby fat. The blonde haired woman smiled at the thought of her little daughter lying asleep upstairs. She always smiled as she slept, as if she were dreaming of something delicious.  
  
The sound of a door opening broke her from her reverie and sent her stumbling to her feet as she sought the gun she kept hidden in the small bookcase for emergencies. Somewhere deep inside the crevices of her mind, instincts to survive lashed out and took hold of her body. She crouched slightly and flattened herself against the wall, making her way quietly toward the kitchen, her movements nearly silent.  
  
  
  
Carolyn's finger un-clicked the safety on the pistol as she inched toward the open doorway, her body tense, her heart beating like a rabbit's. She stepped carefully around the corner, pointing the gun straight in front of her. "Who's there?!" She shouted half in anger and half in terror, her arms were shaking and she felt as if she were going to vomit. "Come out!"  
  
A dark shadow moved silently toward her from where it stood calmly at the kitchen table. "Hello, Carolyn." The voice was rough, almost gravely, but with a certain amount of seductive silk to send a chill up her spine. Like velvet raked over with a knife.  
  
The young woman's breath caught in her throat and something somewhat like a shattered memoury scratched at the core of her brain, urging her to take hold of it and place that voice, that wonderful dangerous voice. Which belonged to a wonderful dangerous man.  
  
"Who are you?" Her voice cracked, and she cursed herself quietly, clutching the gun tighter. The shadow moved closer yet, stepping into the light slowly. The form of a tall, muscular man emerged; brilliantly shining eyes leered at her from an attractive masculine face. Her heart almost stopped. If Lysander had been beautiful, this man was his better. Not beautiful, godlike.  
  
"Aw. I'm hurt that you don't remember." He didn't sound hurt. The man stepped nearer to her and Carolyn found herself backing away from him, like a fawn to a lion. She gulped, her throat contracting, trying to moisten her tongue enough to speak.  
  
"What do you want?" The question was dumb, and totally natural for a petrified human being. Her back impacted dully with the wall; unknowingly she had turned to look at him when he'd still been by the table, and she had steadily been moving toward the wall behind her.  
  
The man closed the distance between them in one smooth movement, seizing her handgun and twisting her wrist behind her back. "You." The word was enough to make her want to scream. His lips against her neck increased that thought and a horrified shriek ripped from her throat as she struggled in his arms.  
  
"No! Let go!" Her body twisted about wildly; his fingers clamped tighter on her forearms. The blonde woman cried out in pain and stilled her movements considerably as the sharp end of a knife pressed into her abdomen, the point making a small puncture in her flesh. Just enough to allow a slim line of blood to trickle down her hip bone.  
  
"Shh." He murmured softly against her ear, his hot mouth tracing a moist line across her skin. "Don't fight me, Carolyn. Don't fight me." His words were low and soothing as he steered her forcefully toward the next room. She found herself losing her will to fight, just as he'd told her to and went limp in his arms. It was somehow familiar.  
  
Flashes of rain and darkness raced across her mind as he lowered her to the floor of the living room. Inhuman howls and screams of agony tore across her brain. "Riddick-" She moaned; the name seemed so right, so real. Images of him lying atop her, his face barely inches away, his lips hanging torturously close to her own. Shouting words, wild, angry, magnificent words as he shook her. Wanted her to come with him. Somewhere. Then it was gone, as soon as she had seen it, vanishing as quickly as it had come.  
  
Her fingers crept up his back, holding him close against her as he bit her shoulder roughly. "Oh yes-" She wanted her memouries back. She wanted to know why she was who she was. Her shirt was ripped savagely from her body, revealing nearly naked flesh.  
  
He pulled his mouth back from his ministrations and grinned down at her wickedly. "That's right. I see you haven't forgotten me completely." He lowered his lips to hers slowly, relishing the need he saw in her eyes, and he knew was reflected in his own. "Old desires die hard-" He groaned, her legs rose up, circling his waist and drawing him nearer. "Very hard-"  
  
  
  
She had no idea who he really was, but whoever she was, she quite agreed with him. This must have been an old desire to cause such an ache to rise up within her heart at the sight of him. The smell of his skin. It sparked everything that she'd lost in her amnesia. Her very soul was his. And he knew it.  
  
His fingers found their way into the band of her pants and tugged them down fiercely as she wrestled his shirt from his shoulders. "Hmm. Not one for waiting, eh?" He was mocking her; she hated and loved him for it all at once. His eyes twinkled as if this were all some jolly joke.  
  
"Damn you!" She screamed, jerking his face back down to her own and pressing her lips to his violently. Her tongue sought entrance to his mouth and was granted it quickly; she slipped it through his lips and touched the softness of his mouth. A low moan rumbled deep within his throat and when she drew back from the caress the smile of mischievousness had disappeared, melting into something frightening and exciting.  
  
"Carolyn-" He crushed his mouth to hers, biting at her lips and clawing wildly at the tender flesh of her body. "Carolyn!" Her name was his war-cry, his mantra, his curse. And she knew that as much as she was his, he was hers. Every fibre of his being, every speck of blackened soul was hers to love and cherish. She yanked his jeans down brutally, fighting his fire with her own.  
  
He slammed into her with angry pleasure and pressed her cruelly against the bruising hardness of the floorboards. As she closed her eyes to blackness, softly grunted words caught her attention.  
  
"Welcome back, baby."  
  
To Be Continued-  
  
Author's Note:  
  
Well, it was short and I thought rather sweet in a twisted "Pitch Black" humour sort of way. I'll add more chapters soon. Until then.  
  
Miss Nightshade 


	2. A Different Kind of Love

Past Times  
  
By: Miss Nightshade  
  
Disclaimer: Same as before. Me no own Pitch Black. How many times do I have to say this crap?  
  
Chapter Two: A Different Kind of Love  
  
Richard B. Riddick sat awake. His grey eyes glowed eerily in the darkness of the nearly silent room. "Oh Carolyn-" He murmured more to himself than to the pretty blonde woman sleeping beside him in the disheveled bed. "What happened to you?" His voice had lost that honeyed glass edge that among other, more frightening things, he was known for.  
  
His long fingers traced the stretched jagged scars that lanced across her sides and belly. They were pale and smooth from years of healing, but he could still remember the look she'd given him in the moments they'd been put there. It said 'save me'. Save me? The idea of looking out for someone else other than himself had seemed more alien to him than the hideous creatures that had killed most of the crew. But as he'd looked at her, this woman who intrigued and fascinated him, Carolyn Fry, he wanted more than anything to have the strength to pull her back. Hold her to his chest and feel her heart beating wildly with adrenaline, beating against his own. In that one expression of terror masking her delicate features, he found something to love. Something to want to feel for, to protect before himself. And it was the strangest thing he'd ever known.  
  
She was breathing softly, her pale hair looked almost white in the dim room. It had grown longer, he noticed, since he'd last seen her. Not much, but longer. A feathery lock fell across her forehead when she rolled over, curving her body against his. He wondered briefly if he should brush it aside. But the sudden rush of tenderness surprised and annoyed him, so he sat there, staring at her.  
  
She was a small woman, and he hadn't been gentle that night, then again, neither had she. When he'd bitten her, she'd bitten back, her sharp incisors digging into the flesh of his neck. It was an odd experience, being equaled in everything you did. And that's exactly what she had pulled off. He was impressed. And for the hundredth time that hour he congratulated himself on his choice of women. She was something to hold out for. Even in those years he'd believed her dead he'd held out. Wouldn't touch another woman, not once. Always found himself comparing them to her. Never had they even come close. No one could hold a candle to the woman who'd attacked him on a barren planet occupied by hungry aliens that thrived in darkness at night while rain came pouring down on them.  
  
He could feel her beneath him again, her skin slick with water and her clothes sticking to every asset she had, enticing him without her own knowledge. It had been almost too much to bear as she screamed her defiance, squirming against his body, not caring if he could see her fear or arousal. She was raw, a virgin sacrifice to the Horned One, honesty incarnate. Riddick had nearly ripped her clothes from her body and gorged himself on her needy mouth. It certainly would have been a night to remember. But he'd let her go, let her go back and face her worst fears. And he had come along for the ride. What a ride it was.  
  
A small sound broke him from his thoughts and a slender leg was thrown carelessly over his. He turned shined eyes onto Carolyn; her slim form was leaning up against his arm. If he wanted to he could have broken her neck in a second. That was what stopped him.  
  
Through most of his years, Riddick was prey to various kinds of fearful and threatening things; to protect himself against the terrors of the life he lead his body became a weapon, his heart became ice, and his mind became a prison. It was a frightful combination and the only one he knew to work incredibly well. Never, at any moment had anyone ever trusted him. Now, the beautiful ghost of a woman sprawled across him was giving him her complete and total confidence. If he hadn't been in love with her before, he would have fallen entirely right then.  
  
Her hot breath blew over his skin, piquing in him again the sultry violent desire that had subsided only hours ago after their scorching love making. He felt every movement of hers, the vibration of her throat against his side as she murmured softly in sleep, the curl of toes on his, a finger bent lightly, scraping the nail gently on his flesh. He had never known such an intense need as this.  
  
Riddick rolled her onto her back, positioning himself atop her carefully. "Carolyn- " He called faintly, blowing the hair by her ear. "Come on, baby, wake up time." Her blue eyes fluttered for a moment before blinking open and settling on his shadow-darkened face.  
  
"Huh? What? What's wrong?" She asked, her voice cracking slightly from disuse. The woman raised one thin hand to his shoulder, her fingers massaging the muscle subtly. He almost didn't notice, it was such a calm, comfortable gesture, as if she had been waking up to him for years.  
  
He slammed his mouth to hers, teeth digging into his skin, forcing his tongue between her lips, unwilling to let gentleness take over his passion. Hands traced the boyish curves of her body, exploring the length of soft arms and legs, fingers tangling in hair. "Oh yes-" He moaned, thankful that their clothes had been taken care of before and there was nothing to rip through or obstruct his way.  
  
Carolyn didn't seem surprised by the sudden yearning for their bodies to be joined once more, and she gave herself up to him totally, her head thrown back in ecstasy. Screams of pleasure tore from her throat in torrents as the waves rolled through her, it wasn't until they were lying back on the bed, the sheets damp from sweat pressing against their burning skin that she stopped. "Who are you?" She asked quietly in the darkness, staring into his glowing eyes.  
  
"Riddick." He stated simply, branding her neck with his smoldering mouth. "You know that." She stopped moving, stopped breathing it seemed, and he looked up into her face in carefully concealed puzzlement. "Carolyn. You know." His voice wasn't inquisitive. She shook her head no.  
  
"I don't remember." It was a strained reply and she looked as if she would cry as she said the words. "I don't remember anything." His face dropped and his hands ceased their steady rhythm along her spine.  
  
"You don't remember?" The gravel in his throat was louder than the satin this time. Anger boiled up inside of his mind, red streaking across his vision. "You don't remember?!" He grabbed her wrist and forced her into a sitting position. The word 'bitch' screamed through his brain, trying to force it's way down his tongue. He wanted to hate her. Wanted to. But couldn't.  
  
"My memory is gone. The doctors said it was severe amnesia." She protested, wanting to lighten the darkness masking his face. "I don't know anything about my life from before." His grip loosened and his eyes focused on the sheets in her lap. Carolyn watched his shoulders heave up and down and pain clutched her heart. "I get flashes now and then. When a situation is similar." She trailed off; their breathing was the only noise in the room.  
  
"You said my name." He murmured softly, tilting his chin back up to look into her face. Hope was painted across his strongly European features.  
  
"I did." She confirmed with equal dimness in tone, "Riddick." He released her wrist altogether and she lay back down on the pillow beneath her, reaching over instinctively to rub the bruised skin. "Richard B. Riddick."  
  
He collapsed on top of her, rolling off slowly, his head resting on the softness of her chest. "Yes." The blonde woman touched his cheek gently and he succumbed to the affection in spite of himself.  
  
"I remembered your name, Richard." But she didn't remember him, not really, or else she would have remembered also that nobody called him Richard. Because he killed them if they did. All things concerned, it seemed very fair to him.  
  
But he grinned, his eyes closed, his body encircled in the slender arms of the woman he'd thought dead and mourned in his own way for years. "Yes." He felt her stretch her arm down and grasp his hand, her slim fingers entwining with his. Strangely, his fingers clasped hers back tightly, as if afraid to let her go again.  
  
A deep-seated protective and possessive instinct swam through his mind and he seized her wrist once gain. "Carolyn." Riddick's voice was soft, soft for being Riddick's voice that is. "You're mine you know." It wasn't a question, not really. He didn't need an answer, because the answer was already there, dancing before his terminally luminescent eyes, like soft cotton in the wind.  
  
Her only reply was a soft grunt of acceptance, then he felt her relax once more, claimed by sleep. "Yes, Carolyn-" A smile grazed his lips. "You know you're mine." He turned onto his side smoothly, touching sweaty fingertips to her pale cheek. "You know."  
  
Carolyn awoke the next morning to soft breathing beside her, a muscular form lay comfortably draped over her body in unperturbed slumber. Thoughts of last night's heated love-making whizzed across her mind and she grinned despite herself.  
  
Slipping gently from beneath the heavy figure, she placed her feet on the floor and stretched. The thin blonde woman's reflection gazed back at her from the full-length mirror attached to her closet door, small purple and red marks were scattered across her flesh like freckles from where Riddick's mouth sought to attach itself.  
  
She touched one just below her navel, a thoughtful smile pulling the corners of her mouth up. "Do you know what you've done?" She asked aloud, her voice all but a whisper, "Do you know who he really is? Do you know who you really are for that matter?" Carolyn scowled at her twin in the glass and raked a hand through her unruly tresses. "I don't care." She growled, tugging the door open and surveying the line of clothes within.  
  
She seized a simple black skirt and greyish-blue tank top, then tiptoed quietly into the bathroom. The water in the shower felt wonderful as it dripped down her body, but somehow, she wished she could just stay how she was. Untouched by anything but him, his scent, his hands, his lips, all branded her skin boldly. Her blue eyes closed in rapture, memories of how perfectly they'd fit together making her long to crawl back in beside him.  
  
She shook her head and washed the suds from her hair, stepping out of the shower and pulling a towel around herself. "How can I love you? I can't." Could she? Was it a question of love? Or was it simple attraction? Either way, Carolyn knew she couldn't walk away from this. From him. She growled again, hating herself for thinking so much and reached for the comb lying beside the sink.  
  
The teeth yanked and ripped roughly through her hair in hurried anger making more knots than freeing them. "Need some help?" She thought she might faint, Riddick stood calmly, leaning on the doorpost, a half-grin mocking and adoring her.  
  
He didn't bother waiting for her reply, simply took her hold of her shoulders and turned her around. Never in her life had she thought anything like having your hair combed could feel so sensual. He drew it down again and again, her pale locks springing up softly as they dried beneath the comb. It was starting to feel too good, them being together, too good to be a lasting thing, and it had only been one night so far. She didn't want to imagine what it'd be like if he stayed for even a week, the power he'd have over her.  
  
Carolyn let out a breath she'd been holding for far too long and reached up to stay his hand. Surprisingly, he stopped at the touch of her fingers, opting instead to lower his mouth to her shoulder. The wet tip of a tongue burning a trail to her ear. "What's wrong, baby?" He asked, placing the comb carefully back on the counter. His breath was hot against her flesh and she felt a tingle go sliding sneakily down her spine. Or was that his hands. Oh Lord, it was.  
  
His palm pressed flat against her lower back, his other hand slipping the towel slowly from her damp form. She hadn't realised until then that he was still nude, her back pressed hard against his chest. The blonde haired woman gulped, trying to steady her breathing, which came in fast little pants. "I've got to go-" She tried to murmur, her mouth dry and wet at the same time. He turned her again, this time pushing her backwards and lifting her onto the sink.  
  
"No you don't." He said, catching her wrists in one hand and pulling them up above her head. The cold glass of the mirror on the medicine cabinet sent a shiver through her in contrast to the heat sitting like a furnace between their two bodies.  
  
She nodded mutely. "Yes, yes I do-I-oh, fuck-" He traced a hand up her thigh, dipping down to touch the spot she wanted him to caress most. "Richard-" He was still smirking, an eyebrow raised as he feigned innocence.  
  
"Yes? What is it?" He moved closer, latching her legs around his waist, his fingers stroking over her clitoris gently. Carolyn tossed her head back, trying to raise her hips up to his touch.  
  
"Please-" She moaned, swallowing rapidly. "Please, I need-I need-" He wouldn't give. Simply stood there, teasing, smiling, killing.  
  
"You need?" she wanted to rip his throat out with her teeth. "Tell me."  
  
"I need you to touch me! Right there, oh please, right there!" She cried, tears beginning to form in her eyes as she yearned. She was weak, too weak to wait.  
  
His fore and middlefingers plunged deep inside her, the thumb still fondling her bud softly. "That's all you had to say."  
  
Author's Note: I hope you liked it. Sorry it took so long. More updates soon.  
  
-Miss Nightshade 


	3. News on crap why there have been no upd...

Hey everyone, this is Miss Nightshade. I know you're all either very pissed off or else you have e-mailed me and mentioned murder should I not update, but my computer crashed a couple times, then broke altogether. I had to buy a new computer and then my Internet connection screwed up. I am working on chapters of the "To Be Continued--" stories, and I apologise for the long, very long, wait. I hope you'll keep reading an reviewing.   
  
-Miss Nightshade 


End file.
